Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 557(@300wpm)
But right now, I just need to listen to the contented sound of my cat purring, curled up against my body.
If Kyle and his idiot friends had had their way tonight, I never would have been able to do this again.
Even though I know she can’t understand me, I tell Toast, “If I ever don’t come home one night, I hope you know it’s because I physically can’t. I would never abandon you by choice.”
She looks up at me as I give her the little head rubs she likes and I smile at her.
Eventually, I get up.
I use the app to find my phone and see it’s still at the frat house. It would be nice if that meant no one had found it somehow, but I doubt I’m that lucky. I mark it as lost and lock it anyway. The next screen asks me to enter a message that should show up on my screen, so I type, “If found, please turn in to campus lost and found.”
I don’t expect any of the jerks that were in the basement to do it, but who knows? It would be nice because I certainly can’t afford to buy a new fucking phone. Maybe they’ll just want this trace of me out of their house and they’re smart enough not to toss my things in a trash can.
But probably not. I should probably check their trash can.
Not tonight.
Tonight, I need to get some sleep.
___
When my eyes open, the light is hitting me at an unnatural and unpleasant angle. Why is it so bright?
I shift and realize my body aches. Then I realize I fell asleep with Toast and never made it to my comfy pillow, so my neck was bent at a terrible angle, and… ouch.
Bleary-eyed, I try to orient myself. My iPad is lying open on the bed in front of me so I touch the screen.
I gasp with horror when I see 7:48 at the top of the screen. “No!”
I forgot to set the alarm.
I launch off the bed and rip open my bedroom door, hurrying out to the living area. Stacie is sitting on the gray futon couch, Toast curled up on the empty cushion beside her.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
“Can I use your phone?”
She starts to nod, but then her eyes widen and her jaw drops open as her gaze travels over what I’m wearing. “Are you… wearing a guy’s T-shirt?”
“It’s a long story.” I reach out a hand pleadingly. “I’m late for work, and I don’t have my phone.”
A frown flickers across her face and she holds out her phone for me to take. “What happened last night? Did you… I mean, I take it your ‘date’ with Kyle went well?”
“No. Kyle’s a douche. You were right. It’s someone else’s shirt.” I tap the internet browser on her phone so I can look up the restaurant’s phone number. “I am helpless without my phone. I need to do a detox or something and learn a couple of phone numbers.” I don’t wait for her to respond and put the ringing phone to my ear.
Stacie sits forward and hits pause on the TV, then she watches me on my call.
“Hi!” I say too enthusiastically when Donna answers the phone. “It’s Brynn. I’m so sorry. I lost my phone last night and—please don’t fire me.”
“Girl, we are swamped. If you get your ass here in the next half hour, you can keep your job, but you’d better hurry.”
Relieved that I still have a chance, I get off the phone fast and grab Toast’s food bowl so I can feed her before I leave.
“Um, I’m gonna need context for this morning-after look you’ve got going on,” Stacie says, leaning her hip against the small stretch of open counter and gesturing to my attire.
“I honestly don’t have time to explain.” I use the spoon to scrape the bottom of the tin, then tap it on the side to shake every last drop into the food dish. “Last night was a nightmare. Did a guy show up here…” I stop, unsure how to ask if Killian’s friend checked in on her like he said they would last night.
Stacie’s eyebrows rise. “Did Yacht Party Ken show up this morning and give me your car keys? Yes, he did. I know your instincts aren’t top tier, but please tell me you didn’t sleep with that obviously sinister man?”
I crack a smile. “Pressed slacks and a button-down with a watch that costs a year’s worth of tuition?”
“Patrick Bateman in his Hamptons wardrobe?” She nods. “He was here an hour ago.”
My shoulders sink with relief. “Oh, thank god.” I did not want to ask Stacie for a ride to my car, but I figured it was still parked over by the frat house. “I love and hate Killian’s friends in equal measure.”